The Monastery and Mom

I had no idea that once you got somewhere past San Simeon heading north on Highway 1 in Calfornia you can't get off it until you get to Monterey. We were searching for a mission– having already been to two– in the mountains and we didn't know that our phones (each of us with two major carriers here in the United States) wouldn't work. And we didn't know that my road atlas that was about ten years old would be up to date (we thought maybe there were more roads built since it was published).

Honestly, while the scenery is beautiful, after a while it starts to look the same. And I was on the right side of the car as we headed north so I had to crane my head to see what Greg could see better although he was preoccupied with keeping us on the road and not falling down the cliff.

When we passed a sign for a monastery and an arrow pointing to the right, before I could ask if we could go, Greg asked me if I wanted to go. He turned the car around at a small motel and as we made the left turn onto the road, we started a two-mile journey almost straight up a hill.

But it was worth it. The Benedictine Monastery had some of the most beautiful views ever. And the quiet. I can imagine some people are uncomfortable there because they can hear themselves think (cell phones don't work either). The gift shop had the most amazing collection of books although the monk manning it didn't seem to be too interested in having a conversation. I gave up on having a spiritual conversation with him– as Greg said, it was like he was told he had to work that day, a Saturday, and wasn't too happy.

We walked around, meandered through the chapel, and as we got ready to leave, standing next to our car in the parking lot, a butterfly grazed Greg's head.

While I used to see them often in my backyard or perching on my zinnias in my front yard, this was the first time we had seen one since Greg came in from the cleaning the pool just a few weeks after Mom died and announced one had been flying around. 

I knew that was Mom. And I knew this was Mom, too.

And I knew then exactly why we'd been stuck on Highway 1– so Mom could pay us a visit.